


End Game

by chromission



Series: Catch Me If You Can [7]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 20:20:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16394429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromission/pseuds/chromission
Summary: Both Tinsley and Goldsworth have fulfilled their deal, now comes the aftermath.Are they content with the epilogue that they've written for themselves or will they scrap it for a fairy tail end?





	End Game

**Author's Note:**

> here it is! the end has arrived! *throws confetti
> 
> -oh hello there! in case you are lost dear reader, do be aware that this is the end for the [series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/979026) and you could catch up by reading all the preceding fics in chronological order ;)

1998

Location: Los Angeles

Time: 13:38

 

“Will the defendant please rise?”

The man in orange stands up. His wrists hang in front of him bound by steel. It is his 12th court hearing from the past few months.

“Uhm I got a question, your honour.”

The judge sighs, “Proceed, Mr. Goldsworth.”

Ricky pinches the fabric sitting on his arm, “Is this mostly polyester?”

The lawyer behind the orange clad man flails his hand before letting them flop to his lap. “Just lock him up again.”

 

The scene ends and a beat of static hums on the television screen. The word “rewind” blinks steadily on the top right corner of the TV.  A lazy thumb presses against the remote control.

 

**-play-**

 

The screen flutters back to life again with another scene of the same courtroom and characters. In the corner of the screen floats the date: 1996-11-29

 

The judge adjusts her glasses and asks the bailiff what today’s case is.

“Your Honor, today’s case is The People v Ricky Goldsworth.”

“Is the prosecution ready?” the judge asks.

 A band of gentlemen behind an oak table stand in unison. “Yes, Your Honor. “

“Be seated” the judge turns her attention to the opposite table. “Is the defense ready?”

A man reluctantly stands and scratches the back of his neck. He sighs “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Be seated”

 

 

**-fastforward-**

**-play-**

**“** Prosecution, you may call your first witness. **”**

The prosecuting attorney calls a man to the stand. Soon after oath taking, the man is immediately bombarded with questions.

 

 

**-fastforward-**

**-play-**

“Where is it, you monster! Where is it?”

The camera pans over the courtroom shakily, showing the restless public muttering and whispering.

The zoomed-in frame settles on Goldsworth who looks up curiously and beams in epiphany “Ohhhh. The lawn mower? Right, The red one, yeah? I’m pretty sure I lost your lawn mower in Nevada”

The camera shakes in panic as Goldsworth is tackled to the ground by the man and the crowd erupts into a frenzy. The footage freezes on Goldsworth’s widened eyes with the man’s hands around his collar and the bailiff trying to intervene.

 

This is the last thing Tinsley sees before he turns the television off. His eyes linger on the black screen before getting up from his desk. He walks over to the VCR under the TV and ejects the tape labeled “Goldsworth hearing #9”. Tinsley takes the tape and tosses it into a drawer full of similar items.

He glances to the calendar on the wall right before looking down to his watch. His eyes linger on the device longer than necessary

 

_Can’t be late now can we._

Tinsley steps out of his office and onto the main floor where few and exposed cubicles laid. His fellow subordinates pay him no mind as he leaves the building. Afterall, they all know where he goes for it is that time of the week again.

 

Upon stepping out onto the sidewalk and reaching for his car door, the reflection of the building’s name plasters itself on the car window: Tinsley Investigation Ltd.

 

He feels little pride in seeing those words. He seats himself in his car and drives away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Goldsworth, you have a visitor.”

 

Ricky has his face to the mirror when he’s interrupted by the guard. He eyes the man on the other side of the bars and ignores him. Ricky looks back to his reflection, seemingly occupied in preening himself. The guard gives a deliberately exaggerated cough and places one hand on his hip and the another on a pair of handcuffs. Ricky obviously notices. His hands smoothen his collar, brushes his orange jumpsuit and flick his hair to an angle. He turns at the heel to face the guard with a showman’s flare.

“What do you think?”

The guard rolls his eyes before unlocking the door “Yeah, the orange really brings out your eyes.”

“Aww, Stanley. You’re a darling.” Ricky stretches his arms to the guard, waiting for the sensation of cold metal.  Once Ricky’s wrists are bound, he struts out of his cell with the swagger of a rock star.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You look well”

“I take ‘well’ means ‘dashing as ever’.” Ricky leans back into his chair, his hands now in his pockets.  “Well what do you have for me, darling detective.”

Tinsley takes a folder out.

Another case.

He presses sheets from the folder against the glass that separates them.

_This is the fifty-eighth time they’ve seen each other. That is fifty-eight hours and fifty-eight days. An hour a day as the prison would allow._

_Dear reader, you could do so little and so much in an hour on several days during the span of a year. Perhaps one could acquire a new hobby, take walks, or read a story to see if two idiots would get together in the end._

 

This is how it always was, almost once a week. ‘Consultations’, Tinsley called them. He’d bring a case or something of criminal nature that needed intervention to be subject to Goldsworth’s opinions.  Some laughs, some compliments, some trivial remarks thrown in.

 

“Hey, folks. It’s Jackie, back with this week’s best hits.” The speakers protruding from the room’s corners come to life and whistle a tune. No doubt for announcements to be blared out through the prison, Tinsley thought.

Tinsley morphs his eyes into slits. He didn’t think the penitentiary would take Ricky’s request to play music. He brings his attention to the man before him once more.

Tinsley takes a blurry photo of a man and shows it to Ricky.

“Oh him? He used to work for me. His specialty laid in creating counterfeit paintings. Last I’ve heard was that he had a couple of gigs in Milan.” he muses fondly.

“Okay so when was the last time he-”

“So, how’s life at Tinsley’s Investigations?” Ricky interrupts, he is laying his chin against his palm as he leans into the table, his other hand lazily grips the phone.

Tinsley contemplates whether to ignore him, but Ricky begins to talk again before he could make up his mind. “C’mon, Tinsels. What of the grand Tinsley Investigations company.”

“It’s doing all right I guess” Tinsley begins, “although there was this one case that involved-” he lights up as he remembers a charming story that will most certainly intrigue Goldsworth. He slides the files back into his folder, happy to ignore them.

Ricky feels the side of his mouth tug upwards as he listens to Tinsley. The side of his eyes crinkle and he leans further into his hand. They laugh some more, this goes on the next half hour left of their time.

The speakers on the corners of the wall purr out the next song.

 

“[Well, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you](https://youtu.be/Jne9t8sHpUc?t=116)  
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right  
And life has a funny way of helping you out  
When you think everything's gone wrong  
And everything blows up in your face”

 

 

“Does Fran miss me?”

“Pfft, no.” Tinsley snorts “Last I heard was that she was busy stealing exotic animals from some rich folks in Eastern Europe and setting them free.”

Ricky feigns hurt “I can’t believe that she’s having fun without me.”, letting the back of his hand rest on his forehead.

As Tinsley becomes more aware of the few minutes he’s left with, the vibrancy dies from his voice. Ricky notices how Tinsley’s eyes would dart to his watch before meeting his eyes again, how he got more jittery and somewhat anxious.

“You must be late for something, Twinkle-toes.” there is no disappointment in Ricky’s voice. “We can pick up where we left off next time.” Ricky pulls away from the glass. Tinsley raises an eyebrow and realizes how his actions came off as, but they both stay quiet. Both stoically grip the phones.

“Time’s up” the guard says as he walks up to Ricky from behind.

 

_"[And isn't it ironic](https://youtu.be/Jne9t8sHpUc?t=161)_

_Don't you think?_

_A little too ironic_

_Yeah, I really do think”_

 

“This is going to be the dumbest thing I’ll ever do” Tinsley mutters into the mouthpiece loud enough for Ricky to hear before he sets the phone down.

Tinsley wipes his sweaty hands on his pants before he yanks himself off the chair to turn to a guard monitoring the visitors.  

“Uhm, excuse me!” Tinsley musters up.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, uh” Tinsley stutters “yeah, you actually can.”

 

_“It's like rain on your wedding day_

_It's a free ride when you've already paid_

_It's the good advice that you just didn't take_

_Who would've thought - it figures!”_

 

The blast of the chorus hits and is accompanied by a smack of a fist to a face and the guard stumbles to the floor. Tinsley wiggles his hand and whines at his hurting knuckles. He looks back to Ricky still in his booth, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. The chatter from other prison visitors cease and gasps arise.

The guard on the floor covers his face and moans in pain. Tinsley winces at the sight and places his hands on his hips. “Shit…sorry”

“What the hell is going on in here?!” another guard bellows as he approaches his colleague. He reaches for something on his belt before Tinsley walks over and slaps him. That guard goes down from being thrown off his balance. [More and more guards rush](https://youtu.be/hHZvUeAdzeI?t=55) into the scene and none anticipated getting slapped right across the face. Truly, the shock of it kept people quiet. The guards brought themselves off the ground, some holding their stinging cheeks.

Tinsley takes a step back and sees the guards’ eyes full of fire. He shakes of his anxiety and confidently puts his hands out to present his wrists. One of the guards pulls out shiny cuffs and Tinsley decides to goad them. “Well, gentlemen…Go on then.”

“Sir, turn around with your hands above your head!”

“Oh c’mon! I’m asking you to cuff me.”

“Turn around and put your hands above your head!”

“Or what? You’ll taze me?”

 

They tazed him.

 

When Tinsley’s vision is muddied by the black he hears the song fade out

 

_“And yeah, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you_

_And life has a funny, funny way of helping you out_

_Helping you out”_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Itchy.

 

That was the first thing Tinsley felt when he woke up barely coherent. Having been going in and out of consciousness throughout the day from the initial shock of 50,000 watts of electricity and exhaustion, Tinsley recalls the quick process of being thrown into a holding cell and plopping onto to a dingy mattress. He takes in the three windowless concrete walls and lonely set of steel bars holding him. It is dark except for the weak fluorescent beyond the bars. The corridor outside his cell tells him this isn’t a holding cell.

 

“Why did you do that, Tinsley?”

“What?” Tinsley looks for the disembodied voice.

“I asked ‘why did you do that?”

Tinsley forces his achy legs to bring him to the bars, he peaks out into the corridor to see a familiar face only to see dimly lit floors.

“I’m next door, you dingus” Ricky whispers cheekily.

Tinsley breathes out in relief, a warmth spreads within him despite his surroundings. “Oh, uhm hi.”

“Hello to you too, Tinsley. Still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh you know If I gotta catch another rascal I gotta get inside his head, yeah?” Tinsley scratches the back of his neck. “So what better way than to actually be jailed and figure out how would he stage an escape?”

“Aww, Tinsels. Are you asking me to break us out for experience?”

“I know you could, but you wouldn’t.” Tinsley lets his words settle. “I know that because you promised me you wouldn’t.”

The silence is met with Tinsley tapping his nails on the bars, “Besides ‘broke out of jail’ would look nice on a resumé” he quietly laughs

 

“Why’d you really do it, Tinsley?” comes Goldsworth’s titular question once more.

 

“It got pretty quiet out there, Goldsworth.”

“Quiet? In your line of work?”

“Oh, absolutely”

 

Tinsley rests his body against the wall and lets his weight push himself down to the floor. He sprawls his legs across the ground and leans his back firmly against the wall. Unbeknownst to him, Ricky does the same. Both back to back with only a few inches of cement between them.

 

“Now you’re stuck here for a bit. What happened to that big shot detective that couldn’t wait to run his own firm? This just muddies that pretty image you got going.”

“You think I had a ‘pretty image’?”

“Always thought you were pretty, sweetheart.”

Tinsley snorts.

Out of the corner of his eye, just outside of his cell is an arm engulfed in orange with a hand outstretched. Recognizing the few scars on the hand, Tinsley concludes that it belonged to Ricky. He stretches an arm to meet Ricky’s.

Tinsley shyly curls his pinky around the other’s, which prompts Ricky to say “Oh, detective. Don’t half-ass this.”

Tinsley clears out his throat before wrapping his fingers across Ricky’s palm expectantly and the quiet ambience rested over them again.

They sit there for what could’ve been the whole night till a voice hollered across the buildings wing, “Y’all best be keeping your hands in your damn cells, inmates!”

They jerk their arms back, panicked before saying “Yes, sir!” in unison.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_During the next undisclosed amount of time, Tinsley is released. Ricky on the other hand remained for a tad bit longer, just a tad bit… Content with his garnered recognition, Ricky moves on to other business. After obtaining an arrangement for parole in exchange for services for the federal government and Interpol, Ricky is out and about on a leash or more accurately on an ankle monitor. All that without a shred of mentions of involvement of Francesca, other colleagues or even of C.C. Tinsley._

_In time, Goldsworth’s extent of freedom was granted to allow him to pursue other ventures. One which involved being a partner in more ways than one to a certain detective._

 

* * *

2002

Location: Los Angeles

Time: 11:16

 

_In the head office of Tinsley Investigation Ltd. is a large calendar that hung from a white wall. Today it is marked with the words “spring cleaning”._

_And dear reader, one is to take note that it is neither Spring nor are the people cleaning._

By the folder cabinets is Ricky Goldsworth sifting through old newspaper pages stocked as reference for previous cases. He draws a folder tucked with semi crumpled newspapers detailing his several trials. One of them featured a courtroom sketch of the figures of the jury behind him. He spots a character in the jury that the artist decided to detail. The tired eyes of Tinsley drawn on the sketch made him hum to himself “At least they got your nose right”.

 

“Got who’s nose right?” Tinsley walks in with a mug of coffee in one hand and a folder in the other. “Watcha smiling bout?”

 

“Nothing” Ricky says as he tucks the newspaper into a recycling bag. Tinsley doesn’t press on, choosing to reply with a “Yeah, right.”

 

Tinsley shakes his head and raises the folder.

“Oh, we got a new case by the way.”

 

He lays out the contents of the folder on the desk and takes a sip from his mug.

“Client says her husband is cheating on her-”

“Classic” Ricky interrupts

“Said he was cheating on her with a ghost”

“I mean maybe she’s not lying” Ricky deadpans

“Don’t feed our clients delusions” Tinsley pleads

 

Ricky walks over to Tinsley and lays a kiss on the crook of his neck and walks away with Tinsley’s mug.

“That’s not fair!” Tinsley whines after getting over the initial surprise, “Can you give that back?”

He traces the phantom kiss on his neck and composes himself. Ricky raises an eyebrow and Tinsley rolls his eyes before uttering a pathetic “please?”

“Well you should’ve got me one then.”

Tinsley groans like a cranky toddler “Can I please have my mug back!”

 

Ricky all but moonwalks while sipping on the coffee and keeping eye contact with Tinsley when he reaches the open door.

Before disappearing out the door he says “Of course,” and wiggles the hand holding the mug to slosh its contents “Only if you can actually catch me.”

 

Tinsley sighs dramatically and his eyes land on a picture taken last Halloween that hung by the door.

 

 

“Another lifetime, huh.” Tinsley says to himself.

 

Tinsley shakes his head and is off sprinting out the door. He knocks a few things off the desk: one being a postcard from Francesca featuring herself in Tokyo playing pool with the Yakuza and the other being a stack of freshly printed business cards marked with:

“Tinsley & Goldsworth Investigations Ltd.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fin

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am sweaty and bloody but i have finished writing it! woohoo! Thank you for coming along this mess of a story. This the first series i have completed and boy it was a journey! I LOVE the darker aus for our boys i don't know what possessed me to write them to be kinda goofy. maybe i wanted something to lift my spirits when i'm reading to myself -i dunno, but i am genuinely happy that people enjoyed reading it.  
> Feel free to chatter in the comments, my dudes~
> 
>  
> 
> special shoutout to Echo_4127 for making these cool [MOODBOARDS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040954)
> 
> so thank you and bye bye now! :)


End file.
